


Phantom Pain

by J_33



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Amputation, Angst, F/M, prosthetic, romanogers - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-26
Updated: 2014-04-26
Packaged: 2018-01-20 21:57:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1527143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/J_33/pseuds/J_33
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Natasha Romanov first woke up in the hospital she knew that something was wrong, she just never thought things would be this bad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Phantom Pain

**Author's Note:**

> My friend requested "give me a captasha fic where one of them ends up losing an arm or leg and the other has to cope after not being able to fight anymore," and that little thing kind of turned into his huge mess that I have been working on for more then a week. Please enjoy:) 
> 
> P.S. All the medical stuff I got from google so I apologize in advance if any of it is wrong.

When she woke up in the hospital she immediately knew something was wrong. Natasha’s head hurt immensely, and there was a faint burning sensation in her left leg. The last thing she remembered was being undercover at some ambassador’s mansion in Ukraine, posing as a council women. Then there was a loud noise, it was gunshots, no it was an explosion – yes, she remembered seeing a shadow in a window, then a missile, then fire, so much fire.

That was the last thing she remembered, and now she was in some musty hospital, with a massive headache, and a pain in her leg that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Her eyes were still closed, but when she heard the door open, and felt a gust of cool air, she finally heard a familiar voice. 

“Natasha!” Steve said, half walking, half trying not to run, to her side.

“St-Steve, what happened?” she asked, surprised at how shaky her voice sounded.

“No one’s sure,” he said sounding guilty.

“My head hurts l-like a bitch,” she mumbled out, earning a chuckle from him.

“That’s from the concussion. The doctor said there may be some minor memory loss, but nothing too major,” Steve said, but she could tell, even with a concussion, that there was something he wasn’t telling her.

“My leg, why does my leg hur-,” she said, but was interrupted when the doctor walked in.

She was tall and brunette. She had kind hazel eyes, and a warm smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. The doctor’s stance represented confidence, but her face reflected pity. Natasha knew something was terribly wrong.

“Hello Agent Romanoff, my name is April Dwyer, and I will be your doctor for the time being. And you are?” she asked motioning towards Steve.

“Oh yeah, I’m Captain Rogers, please call me Steve though,” he said nervously.

“Well it’s nice to meet you _Steve_ ,” she said shaking his hand. “Are you two --?”

“He’s my partner,” Natasha said.

“I’ll let him stay, though that is against the hospital policy, because she has no next of kin, and this is a special case,” said the doctor sympathetically.

_What was so special?_

“Now let’s talk about her condition. When Agent Romanoff arrived at the hospital at specifically 1:22am, she was suffering from a head trauma, multiple cuts, and bruises, and an extensive amount of shrapnel located in her left leg. The doctors on call at the time, brought you in for emergency surgery, fearing that there was enteral bleeding, which we got under control. While in surgery we performed a cat-scan and noticed some bleeding in your brain resulting in your headache, and memory loss, but that should improve over time. Now let’s get down to the real business,” she said clearing her throat. “As I said before, we found shrapnel located in your left leg. We were able to remove most of it, but some of it seemed to be coated in some sort of unknown poison that caused an infection the surrounding area around her leg. Now normally we would prescribe some antibiotics to hopefully kill the bacteria, but the infection seems to be spreading too fast for us to get under control.” 

“What does that mean?” asked Steve.

“We wanted to wait to Agent Romanoff woke up, but there are two options here. We either wait for infection to heal itself, or we take the much less risky option which is amputation.”

“The first one,” Natasha said.

“What are the risks?” asked Steve ignoring Natasha.

“Well, if you chose the first option there is a much higher chance that the infection will spread to her blood, which ends fatally, or we perform a closed flap amputation right above her knee, and she will most likely have a full recovery.”

“You are not cutting off my leg,” said Natasha angrily.

“Miss Romanoff, I assure you that we have the best doctors here, and there is nothing to worry about.”

“It’s not about that. I won’t be able to do my job anymore,” she said.

“Natasha you’re not thinking rationally right now. This is life or death,” said Steve.

“Every day I wake up and take part in life or death situations; you don’t see that stopping me from doing my job,” she responded.

“I will leave you a few more hours to make up your mind, but time is in the essence so please chose quickly,” said the doctor, as she walked out the door. 

*** 

Two more hours went by, but Natasha was stubborn, and hadn’t changed her mind. 

“Nat I’m begging you to go through with the amputation,” said Steve.

“Steve, you have to understand that I don’t want to die, as much as you don’t want me to die, but if there is even a slim chance that I could keep my leg, then that’s a chance I’m willing to take, because if I can’t do my job anymore, I might as well be dead,” said Natasha firmly.

“You sure are stubborn, I’ll give you tha-,” but Steve was unable to finish his sentence because he was interrupted by a sudden beeping noise.

Like a wild fire, doctors started rushing in muttering something about B-fib, and shock. Dr. Dwyer rushed in, and shouted something about the infection being too fast, and that they need to get her into surgery immediately, but Steve wasn’t paying attention to any of that. All he saw right now was an extremely pale Natasha who kept whispering something over and over.

Steve leaned closer towards her as she said “Promise me you won’t let them take my leg.”

“I-I promise,” he said just as she had a seizure.

“We need to get her to surgery now!” said Doctor Dwyer, serving as the water to calm this wild fire, but the thing about water is that it often doesn’t help at all, and makes things worse.

They put Natasha onto a stretcher and wheeled her out of the room. Just as the doctor was about to leave as well, Steve grabbed her arm and said “Please try to save her leg,” practically begging her.

“I’m sorry Captain, but it’s too late,” and like a gunshot, those words hit Steve like a bullet.

The doctor left leaving Steve all alone in the room once occupied by Natasha. This was the day that Steve knew he lost a soldier, without actually losing her death, and somehow that made it all the more worse. And it was his fault.

*** 

The air felt different to her; it felt lighter, but more humid, almost like something was missing. Some people say that the loss of a limb has something in common with the loss of a loved one, but love was for children, and Natasha Romanoff didn’t love anyone.

She could hear someone next to her, but she still felt too weak to open her eyes. She kept playing over and over in her head the last thing she remembered, but it was to no avail. It was almost like she was back in the Red Room, with them tampering with her memories, and putting false ones in her head to fill in the blanks because no matter how hard she tried all she saw was the man with a missile and nothing beyond that. Natasha didn’t know whether to be thankful for her suppressed memories, or angry at the thought that she had no idea what landed her in this horrible position. 

Natasha was used to getting injured, it was part of her job, but they were all bones that would eventually heal, and scars that would soon disappear, but this, or whatever this was, was for forever, and how was she supposed to clear her ledger if she was stuck on a desk job the rest of her helpless life? How was she supposed to be an Avenger? How was she supposed to be the Black Widow?

She finally opened her eyes, and at first all she saw was a blinding light, and then loud beeping noises, which she assumed were from her heart machine, because she couldn’t seem to take any deep breathes. She sat up in bed as far as she could, and looked down, excepting to see two legs, but she only saw one. Then like lightning her breathing became rapid, and she got this sort of adrenaline boost out of nowhere, or was it a panic attack? 

“You promised me!” she yelled, noticing Steve staring at her blankly.

“The infection was in your blood, there was no other choice,” he responded, and she could see the guilt projecting in his eyes. Any other day she might have took that into consideration, but right now she was pissed, and he was the only one to blame. 

“There was _my_ choice,” she said back with gritted teeth, but right as the words flowed out of her mouth, she realized it was never her choice to begin with, and this feeling felt all to familiar.

Doctors started rushing in, but she paid no attention to what they were saying, because it didn’t seem to matter. Natasha tried desperately to get out of the hospital bed, so that she could run away from all her problems, but Steve was holding her down, and she was simply too week to fight against. The last thing she saw was Dr. Dwyer standing above her with a syringe, telling her it was all going to be fine, but she was a crappy liar, and Natasha didn’t trust anyone.

*** 

Three days later it was finally time to leave, and go back to New York. Natasha by no means had come to terms with her loss, but she hated hospitals, especially Doctor Dwyer, so staying was a close second. 

Steve wheeled her into the jet, waiting to take them back to DC. She was still mad at Steve, but she was madder at herself. She was mad at herself because she most have screwed up the mission for things to end this bad, and to make matters worse, she couldn’t even remember what she did wrong. For all she knows, the man with the missile is still out there, while she can barely walk.

Fury was waiting for them on the jet. He was sitting in one of the passenger chairs, and his one good eye looked sadder than usual, or was it anger; Natasha wasn’t sure. Steve helped her into a chair, and then sat down himself. 

“It’s good to see you agents, and as much as I would like to take this time to chat, we have some serious business to get to,” Fury said in his work voice.

Natasha almost felt happy that he wasn’t treating her any different, that he didn’t see her as fragile and broken.

“Now Natasha, you’ve been through a serious trauma, and I’d like to give you time to rest and take a moment to register everything, there’s simply no room for that. You have enemies from your past, we both know that, and they won’t stop coming after you because you’re _crippled,_ if anything this accident is the encouragement they need to target you now more than ever. You’re one of the best agents I know, and I can’t tell you whether you’ll ever work in the field again, but you are still a SHIELD agent, whether you like it or not, and I’m still your boss, so until the time being I have a mission for you,” said Fury. 

“And what would that be?” asked Natasha.

“I’m ordering you once we land, to do physical therapy, and get that leg fixed up, and until you get settled Rogers will be helping you,” he said, ignoring the way she rolled her eyes at his statement. “You are a valuable asset, but you’re even a better friend. I don’t trust many people, but I trust you to overcome this. If I can do my job with only one eye, then there’s nothing stopping you from doing yours, even if that means doing it from a desk.” 

The rest of the ride was quiet. Once they landed in DC, Natasha traded the wheel chair for crutches, so that she wouldn’t feel entirely helpless. Steve drove her home in complete silence, and she pretended not to notice the way his eyes drifted to hers every few minutes. The car came to a halt, and he ran around it to open the passenger door. She muttered a thanks, as he helped her into her apartment. 

Her place was neat. Natasha didn’t make friends with her neighbors because attachments were bad in her line of work. She had a kitchen that probably had more dust then food in it, because she was rarely home for dinner, and mostly ordered takeout when she was. There was her living room with a small couch, and a book shelf with every book from Nancy Drew to Shakespeare, and a small TV. Her bedroom had a full sized bed, and only a framed picture of her and Clint, on her bedside table. 

“Fury wants me to stay the night,” said Steve, feeling like he was invading her privacy.

“The couch pulls out to a bed,” Natasha said as she made her way into her bedroom. 

“You have an appointment at 9 for pt, and if there’s anything else you need I’m just down the hall,” he said, not expecting a response. “Nat, I’m so sorry.”

“So am I,” she said coldly, as she closed the door to her room. 

About a half an hour later she heard the click of the lights go off, which meant Steve had probably gone to bed. She didn’t know what tomorrow would being, but she did know that if she treated her recovery like a mission then this shouldn’t be too hard because the Black Widow always wins.

*** 

Steve was woken up in the middle of the night by the sound of a crash coming from the bathroom. He jumped out of bed and ran into it seeing Natasha on the floor.

“What happened?” asked Steve in a panic.

“I-I had to go to the bathroom, and tripped,” she said shamefully. 

Steve then lifted her up into a standing position, and led her over to the toilet. 

“Just call me when you’re all done,” he said as he walked out of the bathroom, not wanting to make her feel anymore embarrassed then she already was. 

Natasha was one of the strongest woman he’s ever know, next to Peggy Carter, so to see her like this, to see her feel so broken, hurt him more then he’d like to admit. When he thought of Natasha the first word that came to his head was fearless, the second was brave, and the third was a smart ass. Evennow he didn’t see her as any less, but he knew that she saw herself that way. He knew what it was like to look in the mirror and not know the person looking back at you. Steve just wished he could help her remember who she used to be; that powerful, confident, and courageous women he meant the day everything went to hell, because he knew for sure that she would do the same thing for him, and maybe she already had. 

Fifteen minutes later Natasha was settled back in bed, and just as Steve was about to leave he turned around and said “It’s okay for you to hate me, Natasha, I wouldn’t blame you, but just know that I’m here to help, and if that’s all you want me for, that’s fine, but if you ever just need a friend, or someone to talk to, I’ll be here.”

Natasha was quiet for a moment, and then she said “Goodnight Steve,” and though it wasn’t much, it was a step, and that was all he needed. 

*** 

Morning finally came, and during breakfast neither Steve nor Natasha talked about the events of last night. They pulled up to Harper Lee Hospital just before nine o’clock, and made their way to the Physical Therapy wing. 

“Hello, I am Doctor Sparrow, you must be Natasha,” said the fit looking, man wearing a plaid shirt, as they entered the room. 

“Nice to meet you,” she responded, as she took a seat. 

“I’m going to get right down to the basics,” he started. “Today I’m going to be asking you some questions, just to get to know you, and then I will be fitting you for a prosthetic,” he said, and thus the longest journey of Natasha’s life began, and for the first time in a long time, she wasn’t completely sure how things would end.

Soon after Steve left to go run some errands, which probably was code for “punch a bag until it breaks”, and then it was just her and the doctor.

“You work for Nick Fury, right?” he asked, taking her out of her thoughts.

“You know him?”

“Me and Nick go way back,” he said, and by the look on his face, it seemed like he was having a flashback. 

“Yeah, he’s my boss, or was, I’m not really sure anymore,” said Natasha.

“What do you like to do for fun,” he said while reading some chart, changing the subject not very subtly.

“I’m not really sure,” she said.

He nodded his head, and left the room. Shortly after he came back with a tray. Once uncovered, it revealed a prosthetic leg. 

“Your incision seems to be healing nicely so I’m going to go right ahead with this recovery process. As you can see, this is a prosthetic leg. Prosthesis is not biological or bionic, rather, it is a tool. I like to think that your body is a house, and this is a hammer, therefore, you will only get ‘fixed’ if you try and use this tool. This,” he said gesturing to the item, “is an above the knee prosthetic. There is this interface, which is the part that attaches to the remnants of your leg, and the component, or the working parts of the prosthetic. Any questions so far?” 

“No,” she said, because all the thoughts running rapidly through her head, all had one answer to one simple question. 

Her questions was _How am I going to do this?_ and for once in her life there was no easy solution to go along with mission protocol, and the assignment. There was no civilian to save, or person to take out, because both of those people had become herself, and she had no idea what to do. Because no matter how much she treated her recovery like a mission, it wasn’t one, because a mission has the good against the bad, and there was too much bad right now, to make it a fair fight. 

“There’s nothing to worry about,” said the doctor as if he could read her mind. “Do you need me to stop?”

“Just keep going, I’m okay,” she said, trying to convince herself, more than him. 

“Okay, I’ll take this slow. First I’m going to put this thing called a prosthetic sock on the remainder of your leg. The sock is made of neoprene, so that when we put the component on, a suction valve will be created making it stick.”

The whole time he was talking Natasha was counting up to one hundred over and over in her head, to try and stay calm. It was a coping mechanism that she learnt back in the Red Room for withstanding torture, but this was worse than torture, she thought, because at least torture has to come to an end at some point. 

_76, 77, 78, 79,_ he picked up the limb. _83, 84, 85,_ he placed it on her stump. _98, 99, 100,_ the prosthetic was finally on, but Natasha had a feeling that this was only the tip in the ice berg. Maybe this time though, she would hit it straight on, and not sink. 

*** 

_Red, orange, yellow fire clouded her vision. She felt herself struggling to get oxygen into her lungs._ _Her heart was working on overdrive, but it was all for nothing because she couldn’t move. Her_ _head was ringing, her vision was blurred, and there was a stinging sort of pressure on her left thigh._ _When she tried to get up, to move out of the burning flames path, she made no progress. A loud_ cough _erupted from her throat, leaving her mouth dry, and her eyes watering._

 _She could hear the sounds of people begging for help, and children crying out, but she couldn’t help_ _them. It was getting harder to focus, and at her weakest moment was when the most_ pain hit her. _Like a volcano erupted, she felt as though he leg was going to explode. It was_ throbbing, and _burning, and despite her vision, she could see blood, so much blood._

_She heard people bust open the doors, and loud gunshots that made her head pound harder with_ _every bullet that rang. It wasn’t until then that she realized this wasn’t an accident, it was_ _revenge._

*** 

Natasha woke up in a cold sweat that did nothing to relieve the memory of fire that laced her skin like icing on a summer’s day. It was awfully dark and her vision was cloudy, but through the ringing in her ears she could hear someone’s voice. 

“Nat, are you with me?” asked Steve, who was hovering over her with a worried look on his face, but then again, his face always looked worried these days.

Natasha stared at him for a quick moment, as her heart beat slowed down, and it wasn’t until then that she realized how empty she felt. She looked up at him and saw a man waiting to be found, while she has always been lost. He was a soldier with a shield, and she was just a girl with a gun, and now she was nothing. She looked down where two legs should be and only saw one, and only one good leg isn’t enough, and now everything she worked to be wasn’t either. 

The moon light hit his face, showing the wrinkles in his forehead, that was the only indication of his true age and everything that he’s endured, but then she looked into his blue eyes and saw and boy waiting to live; a boy waiting to fly in a world that was weighed down too heavy by the force of gravity. She may not have known Steve back when he was just a skinny kid from Brooklyn, but he didn’t know her when all she was, was an assassin with a death wish, so that didn’t seem to matter so much. Not anymore at least.

He was there, and she was here, and then like the way a light switches on, illuminating a dark room, she felt a little less empty, or maybe just a little more full, but in the way that you feel like you could float away if you tried hard enough. 

Natasha asked Steve to stay, just for the night, because she was lost, and he was trying to be found, so there was no crime in using what was there, and finding comfort in each other, in a world where comfort often got shoved under the rug, mistaken as a weakness when all it really was, was a way to get strong once again. 

The room was silent at first, the extra body heat uncomfortable, but not in an entirely bad way. 

“’You work so hard trying to make amends for half your life, then that all just gets thrown away, and all it takes is one person, one minute, one decision, and one push of a button to change your life forever,” she whispered, ending the silence. “I’ve always been on the other end of that scenario, but I guess karma really is a bitch.”

There was a slight pause, then Steve said “You see the world in red, you see it in debts, and charts, and ledgers, and lists of names of the people you owe. You see the world as a whole, but you never see yourself in it. It’s like you’re a bystander in your own game, like you don’t deserve to be a main character in your own life. I suppose, from afar, it’s easier that way, to watch and do, but not say, and I know I’m not the one who should be talking but it’s okay to want more for yourself, and it’s okay to think that you’re worth it, because I sure as hell do,” he finished firmly.

At first Natasha didn’t know what to say. Sometimes there just are no witty responses, or quick jokes to hide behind reality and regret and pain and everything that makes a person want to disappear forever, because the raw honesty in his voice, made her chest hurt, in a way that it became hard to breath. 

She was a person who hid behind lie afterlife because life is easier that way, but maybe it was because sometimes the truth is harder to bare. You can’t change what’s real, you can only add to it, and Natasha felt like she was overflowing. Drowning in an ocean with nothing holding her back, but no reason to go up for air. She was the anchor in her own life.

“I don’t blame you,” she started, referencing to her leg. “My job had its risks, and I knew that every time I put on my suit.”

“Natasha you don’t have to--,” Steve interrupted.

“Please just let me finish,” she said quickly, almost desperately because if she didn’t say these words now, she didn’t know if she ever would. “Ever since I was a kid I was taught to take responsibilities for my mistakes, because it’s better to punish yourself then bestow that on someone else, and I did that to you. There was no one else to blame, and you were just there, like you always are, but I was wrong, and I’m sorry. I’m not asking for your forgiveness, I’m just asking that you stop kicking yourself for something that you had no control over. Anyways, I need someone with two good legs,” she stated, earning as small laugh from Steve. 

“Please, you’d probably still kick my ass in a fight with only one leg.”

“Damn right,” she said.

Minutes passed, and as his breathing evened out, she whispered into the night sky “Thanks’ Steve,” and she’d like to believe that he heard her.

She would never admit it, but that was the first time since the accident that she slept through the night, and woke up not fearing what was to come, but accepting what would be. Natasha Romanoff was an anchor, but maybe it was time to come up from the bottom of the sea, she just needed a little help getting to the surface.

*** 

A few weeks passed, and Natasha was gradually improving. She was going to physical therapy every other day, and her prosthetic leg no longer felt so out of place. She worked on balancing and weight bearing exercises, and other functional things. 

One day while she was there, waiting in the waiting room for her name to get called she meant someone new. Steve had just left after walking her in, probably going to SHIELD to do some work that he never did in front of her, most likely because he thought it would make her feel bad, or maybe the great Captain America was a slacker, but that probably wasn’t the case.

“Is that your boyfriend?” asked the tall brunette sitting a few chairs down from her. She was missing her right arm; Natasha assumed military accident based on her posture.

“Uh, no-no, Steve? He’s my partner, I mean we’re just friends,” Natasha half said, half stuttered. 

“What a waste,” she said shaking her head. “Oh, I’m Anne Johnson, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, I’m Natasha,” she replied, shaking the older women’s hand, r good hand anyway.

“What ya do?” asked Anne, pointing to her leg.

“About two months ago, mission gone south, there was a bomb, I think – I don’t really remember much,” stated Natasha.

“Army?”

“Something like that.”

“I was in the marine corps. I remember skyping my husband, and two kid’s goodnight, and then the next morning my unit was tasked to look at potential terrorist threats. I was driving there, with my partner, and all of a sudden I see this little boy, no older then my seven year old son, and he’s standing in the middle of the road. We were trained that everyone was an enemy, and I saw this little boy, and he had a bomb strapped to his chest, with the detonator in his hand, but I couldn’t shoot him. I froze, and the next thing I know, my arms trapped underneath a fire filled car, and my partners gone,” said Anne, with this sort of distant look in her eyes.

Natasha didn’t know how to respond. She was an expert in creating covers, acting the part, and following through, but when it came down to being a _normal_ person, she often came up blank. 

“I’m sorry,” Natasha said, feeling some sort of connection with this stranger.

“It gets better, trust me,” Anne said clearing her throat. “I used to wake up every night screaming from another nightmare about that day, I used to not be able to drive my kids to the park, or to school, because every person I saw in the street was that little boy, but then I realized that I may have lost something, like my arm, and my partner, but I’m still here, and I wake up every morning thankful I get to kiss my husband, and see my kids grow up, so that has to count for something right?” 

“How long have you been married?” asked Natasha, aiming to make small talk, but hoping this didn’t sound like an interrogation.

“Are eighth anniversary is coming up this summer,” she said happily, and Natasha realized that she truly admired this women, this stranger that she just meant.

She admired the fact that she could suffer through something so traumatic, but still enjoy life, and still be a strong, and brave women every day. 

“Anyone special in your life?” asked Anne.

“No,” Natasha replied, if only she knew that Anne was way better at reading people then she initially thought, because she definitely wasn’t buying it. 

“I think you should go for it.”

“Go for what?” Natasha asked with a raised eyebrow.

“I see the way your voice changes when you talk about _Steve_ , and no man goes through so much trouble in taking you back and forth from places, if they don’t secretly care about you.” Natasha looked down at her lap, as Anne’s name was called. “Look, you’ve already lost a leg, so there’s nothing more you can really lose by putting yourself out there, and asking him out,” she replied quickly, giving Natasha a quick wink before disappearing behind the door once her name was called.

Most of Natasha was thinking that this would all end terribly, but Anne did have a point. It’s almost funny how a total stranger can impact your life more in a half an hour, then someone you’ve known forever. It’s not that she didn’t like Steve, she really did, but caring for people was a liability that was drilled into her brain at a young age. The first person she ever _loved_ , when she was only a mere child, got killed, and used as an example for the rest of her training. It took her a while to learn how to feel again once she joined SHIELD, but even that was a risk, because she was constantly wagering who to trust or not. But then again, when Natasha looked at Steve she saw a man that could make her a better person, she saw a man that saw her for who she became, not who she was, and she saw a man who didn’t care whether she had one good leg or a hundred. 

Steve was kind, loving, innocent, and everything she was not, so it would be a sin to further burden him with her problems; he was already assigned her permanent _babysitter_ for the time being. She cared about Steve a lot, but she learned the hard way the caring for people was the same thing as hating someone, because when everything was all said and done, everything ends in pain, and she wouldn’t do that to Steve – she couldn’t, not after all he’s done for her. 

Love is for children anyway.

*** 

It was a bad day. Natasha had had many bad days in her lifetime; days when everyone in the world seemed like they were trying to kill her, days when missions ended in complete failures, and then days like today. 

Everything started off fine. Steve dropped her off for therapy, like he normally did. She greeted Doctor Sparrow, and had a nice conversation with Anne, who was still slightly upset that she didn’t take her advice. But then while doing some stair exercises, she fell. Her prosthetic leg hit the step at a bad angel, and she fell.

Normally this wouldn’t have been a bid deal to any other person, but this is Natasha Romanoff, fire and ice all mixed into one. She once killed people with her thighs, she could once take down grown men with one kick, but now she could barely walk without stumbling, and if that wasn’t the most pathetic thing she’s ever heard she didn’t know what was.

When Steve came to pick her up later that day, she didn’t say one word to him. It wasn’t because she was mad at him, he did nothing wrong, it was because she was mad at how weak she felt. It’s hard when you spend your whole life building yourself up, and earning a name for yourself, and then you’re forced to throw it all away. When it came down to it, one bad leg was the same thing as two bad legs, so what was the point anymore?

“What’s wrong?” asked Steve on the drive back to her place, noticing her being unusually quiet. Natasha wasn’t much of a talker, but normally she would play with the radio stations, or pester him about his driving skills or age. 

“Nothing’s wrong,” stated Natasha coldly.

“Come on, talk to me,” he said, trying to get her to open up more.

“I fell.”

“You fell?”

“During physical therapy. I was doing some exercise and I fell.”

He moved one of his hands off the steering wheel, and went to place it over her much smaller one, but she flinched when he made contact. 

“Now tell me what’s really bothering you,” he demanded. 

“I just – it’s just hard to feel like I have a purpose now, now that everything I worked for is gone,” she said, her voice breaking towards the end. “And I tried treating this like a mission, but it all seems so pointless now a days. Like I need an extraction, but there’s no way out.”

It was silent for a few moments, the only sounds coming from the rain outside the car, but then Steve said “I need to show you something.”

After about fifteen minutes of driving they arrived at some building. It looked kind of like a school. Steve walked inside, and Natasha followed not quite sure what the point of this was. They entered this dark room, and once he turned on the light, she saw countless pictures covering the walls, of what looked like a classroom. 

“This is an elementary school. One of the agents at SHIELD’s wife works here, and he told me about this project her class has been working on. I was gonna wait to show you, but it looks like you could use some cheering up.”

Natasha didn’t say anything, she didn’t know what to say, so she just walked closer to the pictures on the wall, and started to read them. 

_Dear Black Widow,_  
My big brother says that only boys can be heroes, and that makes me sad, but then I remember that you’re my hero, and I know that maybe one day I can be one too.  
Love,  
Hannah 

_Dear Black Widow,_  
My mommy doesn’t have a leg just like you, but she’s still the best mom in the whole world. She tells me that it’s okay to ask for help, that it doesn’t make you week, it just makes you human.  
From,  
Taylor 

_Dear Black Widow,_  
I asked Santa for your action figure last Christmas. Your accident was on the news, so I broke off one of its legs too. It still beats all the bad guys, just needs a little extra support.  
From,  
Linda 

_Dear Black Widow,_  
Sometimes when I’m sad about being different from all the other kids, I think of you and it makes me happy because if you can do it so can I.  
Love,  
Sara 

There was many more letters, but she stopped reading, not because she wanted to, but because the tears lining her eyes was making her vision blurry. Her whole life she never once thought that kids admired her, that they looked up to her, and that they could connect to her. It almost hurt her to read the letters, because she wasn’t used to this feeling. Maybe she had a purpose now, and maybe that purpose was staying a role model for these little kids. It wasn’t much compared to her old job, but deep down she felt prouder about this one. 

Natasha felt Steve’s hand on her shoulder, and instead of flinching this time she leaned into his grasp. 

*** 

They were both crammed on her small couch in the living room of her apartment. Steve offered to sit on the floor to give her more space, much she told him that would be silly. There was some movie playing in the background, but Natasha had long forgotten what was going on. 

It had been six months since the accident. Six months since her life changed forever. She wasn’t paying attention to the film because she knew what was coming next. Fury told Steve that he was to be with her until she got settled, and she was beyond settled now, but deep down she kind of wished that she wasn’t, that she had more time.

“They found the man with the missile,” Steve said, and she knew that he wasn’t paying attention to the movie either. “It turns out he was a former KGB trainer, but Fury put a bullet in his head before he could say anything else.”

“I guess that means you’re leaving now,” said Natasha, not taking her eyes off the screen, despite not really watching it. 

“My next assignment is tomorrow,” he said leaving out where it was, because she knew it was probably classified, and she no longer had the clearance.

“Well I’m gonna miss having someone to boss around,” she said, but that was a lie.

The truth was, she was going to miss everything about Steve. Like the way he walked at a slower pace when walking with her, even though she’s seen him run faster than the speed of light. Or the way that he was there waiting at the kitchen table with a coffee whenever she woke up in the morning, or the way she knew he stayed up until she fell asleep, or the way he didn’t see her as broken. Most of all she was going to miss the man she had come to love being with her every step of the way.

Did she need any more help? Not really, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t be nice to have someone there. 

“The mission shouldn’t take that long. I can still come see you between shifts,” he said.

“It’s better this way. There’s people out there who need you more than I do now,” she said, though inside she wished she were begging him not to go.

Why give someone a reason to stay, when there better off somewhere else.

This time she could feel his eyes on her, though she kept hers glued to the television. She wouldn’t let him see her like this, she wouldn’t let him see her break down, not when he was already going. Natasha always wanted more for him then what she got, so she wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she was the reason he couldn’t do his job.

“Natasha there’s something I need to tell you—“

“Please Steve, it’s okay, I get it.” 

“No, no you don’t get it. You think that I can’t see what has happened between us these last few months, because I may be old but I’m not stupid,” he said raising his voice.

“Steve—“

“I’ve waited and waited before for things to fall into place, and by the time they do I go and crash a plane into an iceberg and stay there seventy years too late, and I’m not going to make that mistake again, not with you. So please just listen to what I have to say,” she nodded her head. “I’ve watched you fall apart and then put yourself back together, more times than I can count on my fingers, and each time I am reminded of how much I care about you. I’ve watched you struggle with your past, but then make things better for the future, and I am reminded of how much I care about you. Lastly I’ve watched this happen to you, and not once did I have any doubts that you wouldn’t get through it, and then I am reminded of how I can’t live without you. Yeah I have to go back to SHIELD because you don’t need me anymore, but I’ve realized that I need you.”

Natasha didn’t exactly think this is how she would be admitting her true feelings to someone, just before they were about to leave, but she didn’t really care. She heard Anne’s words in her head telling her that she had nothing to lose, so she said “I care about you too.”

He was smiling, and she was smiling back, and even though six months ago she lost everything, she did gain something along the way, and that was love. Natasha Romanoff may be an anchor, but Steve Rogers was the chain pulling her up, and nothing about that would ever change.

**Author's Note:**

> So there it is. Thanks for reading, and please feel free to request any fics,. Any feedback would be great.


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